


A Whole Other World

by evelynsteele



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelynsteele/pseuds/evelynsteele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexia can't remember the Doctor, but she remembers everything else.  Just what was she getting herself into before she hit her head? Season 6 spoilers; Doctor/OC, Amy/Rory; mentions of Rory/Flesh Jennifer, Amy/Doctor, Doctor/River, and Doctor/TARDIS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

_Alexia fit perfectly into the TARDIS trio, some aspect of her personality flawlessly fitting her to each of them.  So when she loses any memory of the Doctor, all friendships are strained.  Hateful words are said, danger is found, spoilers are given, but more importantly, Alexia remembers who she is piece by piece with limited to no help from the Doctor.  There’s something in between them, or at least there used to be.  If both of them would stop being so stubborn, things might fall into place more easily.  But, it’s like leading a horse to water: you can lead them to the place they need to be, but only they can fix what was broken._

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**I am not Moffat.  I am, though, Evelyn Steele.  I do not own the Doctor, Amy, Rory, the TARDIS, nor episode scenarios that will appear in chapters beginning with Chapter Five.  I do, however, own the actual writing of this story along with the character Alexia Seraphina.  The plot, excluding chapters where they follow actual episodes, is mine as well.**

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            “She should be coming back around, now,” a familiar voice called.  It pulled at her memory, but her head was throbbing and she felt as though the voice had no face.  She could analyze the voice, though, such as the fact that the British accent of the voice would sharply contrast her flat California ‘accent.’

            “What even happened?” a different voice asked.  This one she was almost positive she could match up to a face.  And, sure enough, a specific one came to mind: pale skin, light eyes, bright red hair that curled slightly, disproportionally long legs, a gentle smile, slight dimples, high cheekbones, and a light dusting of freckles across her nose that was only noticeable when one was very close.  Just after, a specific name came to mind, as well: Amelia “Amy” Pond.          Gently, after a momentary struggle, she opened her eyes.  Sure enough, Amy was looking at her, worry painting her expression, from the left side of her bed.  She did her best to push herself up into a seated position, and her success was guaranteed by a warm hand cupping her left elbow and assisting her efforts.  She looked at the owner of the hand, startled for a moment as she tried to reassemble her scattered mind.  After a quick glance at the face -- pale skin, though darker than Amy’s; short, choppy brown hair that looked almost red when the light caught it; chocolate brown eyes; a small, nervous smile; a defined jaw line; and the same high cheekbones as Amy, suggesting a similar heritage -- a name instantly came to mind: Rory Williams.  A beat later, she remembered everything else.  She groaned at the sudden flood of information, pressing the heel of her free hand to her temple.

            “Where does your head hurt?” Rory asked.  Among with the information flooded to her head, the fact that Rory was a nurse stayed at the front of her mind.  If anything was wrong, Rory would be able to take care of her, or at least get her to someone who could.

            “Nowhere externally,” she replied after a moment of hesitation.  Pressing the heel of her hand once more into her temple before drawing away, she agreed mentally with her previous statement.  “I just sort of remembered everything in a rush.  I was confused for a moment.”  She didn’t say anything else as Rory’s fingers gently roamed her head.  She winced when he pressed a thumb gently into the curve where her head connected with her neck.  He did it again and she answered with an even harsher wince, accompanied by what could be considered a whimper.  Something had definitely hit her hard there.

            “Is this where she hit herself?” Rory asked.  She struggled to remember hitting herself, or even anything considered specifically recent.  She panicked as she came up empty.  Her panic only increased when she looked at the foot of her bed and was greeted with a face she didn’t recognize at all.  The face was dashing, sure, and familiar, but in the way that a stranger’s face is familiar and just invites you in.  His shaggy brown hair fell partially into his face, his face pale with worry -- the same worry that shown in his deep green eyes.  He was wearing a suit, a brown suit, with the jacket unbuttoned over a beige button-up.  Although his bowtie was an almost loud red, her first impression of him was rather negative: _monochromatic_.

            “As far as I could tell, yes,” he answered.  She had almost forgotten that Rory had asked a question.  Embarrassed, she averted her eyes away from him, focusing instead on what Rory was doing to the back of her head.  She bit back a cry of pain when Rory applied pressure to just underneath the connection of her head and neck.  Tears flooded her eyes at the sudden rush of raking pain.  Just as quickly as he had placed his finger there, though, he withdrew it.  There was something about tensing the neck when in pain, which probably increased her pain, but also alerted him to it.  “There wasn’t any blood when I picked her up, but I knew that didn’t mean that you humans aren’t hurt.”  Again, her eyes went wide with shock; he was addressing their species as if he weren’t a part of it.  She rolled her eyes at herself.  There had to be a reasonable explanation for his speaking that way.  There was no way he wasn’t human.

            “What happened?” she mumbled, self-conscious of the fact that she couldn’t remember neither what had caused her pain nor the man at the foot of her bed.  She straightened her neck from its semi-slouched position when Rory withdrew his hands and allowed her.

            “There was a jolt,” Rory explained slowly, catching and keeping her gaze.  “You stumbled, tripped, and fell.  You cracked her head against the console.”  She blinked at him, not understanding what he was talking about.  Houses and apartments don’t jolt.  Scotland didn’t have earthquakes.  Where was this console he was talking about?  “You don’t remember,” Rory realized, his breath leaving him in a rush.  He picked up a pocket-sized flashlight and tilted her chin up.  She remembered having to do this as a little girl; she stared obediently at Rory’s nose as he shone the beam into both her eyes in turn.  “I’m going to ask you some questions, alright?” he asked as if he were speaking with a small child.  She nodded.  “You answer me as truthfully and as completely as you can.  And let me know if you can’t remember or if you can’t remember part.  Okay?” Again, she nodded.  “What’s your name?”

            “Alexia,” she answered immediately.

            “What’s your full name?” he prompted.

            “Alexia Seraphina…” she trailed off, grappling with her mind to produce a last name.  “I don’t remember my last name.  Everyone just calls me Alexia.”

            Rory nodded, as if he were expecting her not to remember her last name.  “Who am I?”

            “Rory,” she answered, almost as immediately as she had with her own name.  After a beat, she added “Williams.”

            Again, he nodded.  “Who’s this?” As he asked her, he pointed at Amy, who was sitting still at her other side.

            “Amelia ‘Amy’ Pond Williams,” she declared, using the woman’s full name to skip the additional prompting.

            “How old are you?”

            Alexia hesitated, searching her mind for such a simple fact.  There were all sorts of numbers whirling around in her head, some too fantastical to possibly believe.  “I’m turning twenty-one soon,” she answered after an anxious moment.  “In six days,” she added after a bit of mental math.

            “What’s your family like?”

            “I have a mum, a dad, a little brother, a little-r sister, and two cats.  Caroline, John, Jude, Irene, Tabitha, and Sherlock Holmes.  My mum is a stay-at-home mum, but she’s always wanted to be an illustrator for children’s books.  My dad works in an office,” she hesitated for a moment, not sure if she was trying to remember or simply spacing on the proper title, “as customer service for a computer software manufacturer.  Jude is in high school, just started, and plays basketball; he’s real tall.  Irene is the baby of the family; she’s only in third grade.  She’s the spitting image of my mum, and she dances just like my mum used to.  Mum messed up her knee in high school and had to stop.  Tabitha is an orange tabby.  She just lounged around everywhere, gets in the way.  Sherlock Holmes stares at you wherever you go; always makes you think he’s accusing you of something.  He’s an all-black cat except for white socks and a white nose.  His blue eyes are enough to scare you out of your mind if you wake up to them in the middle of the night.”  She looked expectantly at Rory, who seemed to have trouble deciding what question to ask next.

            “Where are we?” he asked, though it was plain on his face that it wasn’t the question he wanted to ask.

            “Someone’s home, I thought,” she answered, looking around.  It was obviously her room.  She recognized the bookshelf that she had painted, her books, her dresser, even her pea-coat hanging from the back of the door.  “But I suppose not.”

            “We’re in a spaceship,” Rory said easily.

            Before she could understand what Rory meant, “It’s not a spaceship” shot from her lips.

            “Why not?” Rory prompted, impressed that she objected to his statement so quickly.

            “Because,” she began, drawing the word out as she searched her mind for why she had shot down Rory’s statement so quickly, “it’s more than that.”  A phrase that was so familiar in such an unfamiliar voice suddenly filled her mind.  “We can go not only anywhere, but also any _when_.”  She gnawed at her lip, still searching for the name.  The more she remembered about it, the more familiar it became.  It was alien, yes, but it was so much like a home to her.  “It begins with a ‘t.’  It’s an acronym.  Something about time and space.”

            “TARDIS,” Rory replied after watching her struggle for a few more moments.  “Time And Relative Dimension In Space.”

            She nodded slowly as those words tugged at her brain.  She groaned as fragmented phrases and images simply swirled around in her head.  “Chameleon circuit.  London 1960s police box.  Pull, don’t push.  He leaves the brakes on.  The wheezing sound when it takes off.  It can turn invisible.  She sometimes has a mind of her own.  It’s bigger on the inside,” she finished, her voice filled with awe like she had just figured out the last phrase.

            Little did she know, but the man at the foot of her bed -- the Doctor -- felt as though his hearts were breaking.  This woman that he had found and she had so readily believed in anything and everything he threw at her was just barely remembering her surroundings.  And it was his fault.  He could have caught her when the TARDIS hit the rough patch in the Vortex, but had foolishly assumed that she was going to catch herself like she always did.  The one time she truly needed him, he had failed her.  Just like Amy Pond, the Girl Who Waited.  Just like Donna Noble, the Girl Who Always Found Him.  Just like Rose Tyler, the Girl Who Never Gave Up On Him.  Just like Martha Jones, the Girl Who Never Backed Down.  He always was so convinced of how tall and strong his friends stood that he was never ready to catch them when they finally fell.

            When he looked back up, he was shocked to see tears streaming down her face.  How many times had he been in this exact same position? He hated crying, absolutely abhorred it.  Not only was it a manifestation of such pain and sorrow and anguish, but he never had any idea what to do when someone cried.  Should he hug her? No, because she still had no idea who he was.  Should he comfort her in some other way? No, his being familiar and friendly with her would probably freak her out even more.  Should he introduce himself? Now _there_ was an idea.  He stood up as though to approach her.  Immediately, Rory lifted his head from where he had held it to best hold Alexia’s gaze and gestured towards the open door with his chin.  Rory wanted the Doctor to leave while Rory and Amy comforted Alexia, _his_ Alexia.  Now, why was that possessive adjective there? She was not his.  She was hers and hers alone.  She only belonged to herself.  Rory was trained in the ways of human doctoring, though, so he had to concede to what the doctor thought was best.  It was odd thinking that specific phrase; he was so used to seeing himself as the Doctor, not Rory.  Not even realizing his own tears, he nervously fixed his bowtie, cast one last glace at the sobbing Alexia, and walked out the door.  To where, he had no idea.

            “Why is it bigger on the inside?” Alexia begged through her tears, her voice barely having any volume to it.  “Why is it always red, blue, or purple? Why do I no longer want to meet an Alonzo? Why? Why?” she chanted over and over.  She was working herself into hysterics, so Amy slid around to face her.  Grabbing her chin, she forced Alexia to look at her.

            “You’re going to be alright,” she assured the frightened blonde.  “You have me and Rory and the Doctor to look after you.  You’ll get your memory back.”

            Alexia bit back the sobs, but the tears continued to stream down her cheeks.  Trying to calm herself with deep breaths, she looked at the door the man had just walked out of.  ‘The Doctor,’ Amy called him.  Was she supposed to know him? She could only assume so; she’d been with him when she had fallen.  She couldn’t imagine what he was going through; what sort of relationship did she have with him? How must he be feeling, piecing together that she can’t remember him at all? “The Doctor?” Alexia repeated warily.

            “You don’t remember him,” Rory gathered.  She shook her head, feeling small and horrible.  “It must be subject-specific amnesia,” Rory murmured, checking her neck again.  “I can only find some bruising, which is to be expected, but it’s light enough that it’s just the blood vessels under the skin and not the brain.”  He tapped her knee, just in the right spot to not only make her kick, but also to send a tingle up her spine.  “No brain damage is showing, but I need to keep an eye on you for the next few days.  Your memory should come back on its own; don’t push it and don’t feel bad at all.  Amy’s gone through a similar thing twice.  Once, she forgot me.  The first time, though, she forgot the Doctor, too.”

            “It all came back to her, though.  It was at your wedding reception.”  Her eyes flashed briefly from her lap to Amy and back.  “It was the phrase ‘something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.’  It’s the TARDIS.  She remembered the TARDIS and then the Doctor.”  Tears threatened to spill over again.  “I never really forgot the TARDIS.  I don’t have a trigger.”

            “Oh, sweetheart,” Amy cooed, gathering Alexia into a comforting hug.  “You’ll get through this.  I know you.  When you set your mind to something, you never give up.  I know you’ll get better.”  She looked at Rory and he nodded; the odds were in her favor of remembering the Doctor.  True, some amnesia patients never fully recovered, but Alexia had only one person to remember.  She still had her childhood, her personal life, Amy, Rory, even the TARDIS.  She would have support along the way as she overcame this.

            “I know you don’t like being babied,” Rory said, catching Alexia’s eye to keep her focused on him, “but I’m going to be keeping an eye on you for the next few days.  We need to make sure that you really do just have a little bit of amnesia and not actual brain damage.”  A beat later, Alexia tried to smile.  It was true; even though she was on the small side in every meaning of the word, she hated being babied.  “If you can’t remember something, you need to let me know.  Right now, all we know is that you don’t remember the Doctor.  If you come across the need for information and you can’t remember something specifically, let me know so we can figure out if you have something more serious than just subject-specific amnesia, alright?” She nodded, still curled up against Amy and enveloped in a hug.  “What was the first question I asked you?”

            “If my head hurt,” Alexia mumbled.  “Why?”

            “Just making sure it’s only amnesia and we don’t have to worry about a memory conversion difficulty as well,” Rory replied.  Off her blank look, he explained, “There’s a part of your brain that processes information and turns it into short-term memory.  There’s also a part of your brain that converts short-term memory to long-term memory for storage.  I wanted to make sure you don’t have any problems making new memories.  That would mean brain damage.”

            Alexia blinked sleepily, almost like she was forming something in her mind, but thinking it through before vocalizing it.  “Did you take a lab in amnesia or something?” she asked, her eyebrows scrunching.  “You seem to know a lot about it off-hand.”

            Rory shook his head.  “I just know enough to diagnose it.  There are all sorts of different types of amnesia, based on what you can’t remember, what side-effects you have, and how it was caused.  There’s also a better word than ‘subject-specific.’”  He fiddled with his pocket flashlight, which was still in his hand, before tapping the tip of her nose with it.  “I might have to take you somewhere to get you properly diagnosed.”

            “No!” she immediately cried out.  She hated hospitals, absolutely detested them.  Just the idea of going to a hospital was enough to drive her a little mad.  If a hospital wasn’t bad enough, she was going to a hospital for her brain.  That meant scans and x-rays and all sorts of mad-scientist-type things.  She’d heard enough horror stories of CAT scans to never make her want to even enter the same room as one, much less get one.  “No hospitals,” she repeated.

            “Not right now,” Rory allowed.  “But if you start showing side-effects or anything, you are going to a hospital.”  Alexia flinched at the idea; she’d never been to a hospital and she’d prefer not to start now.  “We’ll go somewhere out where you grew up, though.  A familiar environment should put you at ease.”  She nodded, allowing that.  With that, he gave a satisfied nod and left.

            “You should take a nap,” Amy pointed out, standing up.  “Do you want to change into something more comfortable, or just sleep in what you’re wearing?” Alexia glanced down at what she was wearing: gray skinny jeans, black tank-top, cream cardigan, and black flats.  The same adjective she had used to describe the Doctor came ringing in her head: _monochromatic_.  She kicked off her flats before curling underneath the familiar purple covers.  “I’ll take that as your answer,” Amy smiled.  She pressed a kiss to the blonde’s forehead before walking out of her room and shutting the door.

            As if things with the Doctor weren’t already interesting enough.

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**So, that’s the introduction to _A Whole Other World_.  This takes place before “The Curse of the Black Spot.”  So, yes, this is the younger Doctor that they find at the diner.  River will be making appearances as well as all the villains, but I wanted to set up the whole situation between Alexia and the Doctor, specifically, before diving into the actual episodes.**

**Claire, Charlotte, and Zoe, this is for you guys! Claire definitely boosted my self-esteem in my writing.  Zoe is just wonderful and lets me bounce ideas off of her; we complain about Moffat together.  Charlotte is the one who actually introduced me to _Doctor Who_ , so this fan-fiction is literally indebted to her.**


	2. Chapter Two

_Alexia fit perfectly into the TARDIS trio, some aspect of her personality flawlessly fitting her to each of them.  So when she loses any memory of the Doctor, all friendships are strained.  Hateful words are said, danger is found, spoilers are given, but more importantly, Alexia remembers who she is piece by piece with limited to no help from the Doctor.  There’s something in between them, or at least there used to be.  If both of them would stop being so stubborn, things might fall into place more easily.  But, it’s like leading a horse to water: you can lead them to the place they need to be, but only they can fix what was broken._

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**I am not Moffat.  I am, though, Evelyn Steele.  I do not own the Doctor, Amy, Rory, the TARDIS, nor episode scenarios that will appear in chapters beginning with Chapter Five.  I do, however, own the actual writing of this story along with the character Alexia Seraphina.  The plot, excluding chapters where they follow actual chapters, is mine as well.**

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            She sat up and stretched, oddly relaxed and well-rested after a small power-nap.  She rubbed her eyes, but quickly stopped and winced.  She knew there was something about a nerve connecting her eyes to her brain, which probably meant that when she put pressure on her eyes, she was putting pressure on her already sensitive head.  Her bedroom door was closed, which she supposed that Amy had closed when she left.

            She stood up and almost immediately sat back down; she was a little uneasy on her feet.  That was definitely something to mention to Rory.  She slowly made her way out of her bedroom, careful to not stray too far from a wall should her walking become unsteady again.  She carefully made her way to the TARDIS console; the fact that she remembered where it was, she chalked up to kinetic memory.  She wasn’t sure that she consciously remembered where it was, but her legs definitely remembered how to walk around the TARDIS.  If she didn’t remember her name, she could have easily signed her name and found it out that way.  That was from some TV show she watched.

            “Hey, you’re up!” Rory realized when she finished climbing the stairs and was in his line of sight.  He walked over to her from his reclined position against the railing to talk to her without having to shout.  “How are you?”

            “Uneasy on my feet,” she said, suddenly lashing out and grabbing his arm as her foot rolled outwards and she nearly fell over.  “I think that’s just because I knocked my head.  And I’m a bit nauseous, but that’s manageable.  I whipped around a corner and felt sick, so I think I just have to move slowly for a little bit.”  She ran a nervous, shaky hand through her hair, but kept her grip on Rory’s arm.  She glanced down at her hair; it was longer than she had realized.  It nearly reached her waist, twisting slightly in loose waves towards the end.  Her hair also got progressively lighter blonde as it went down.  That was from the sun naturally bleaching it, though.  The ends were blonder because they had been exposed to more sun.

            “Do you have a headache of any kind?” Rory asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.  She shook her head, grateful for that.  She hated headaches.  She wasn’t really good with any kind of pain.  “No fine motor skills affected?” She shook her head again.  Silently, to demonstrate, she held her hands up in front of them and touched each finger in turn to her thumbs.  After a moment of standing on her own, though, she grabbed Rory’s arm again and recovered her nearly-lost balance.  “We should get that checked out if that persists.  I’m willing to guess that you’ll recover from it as the day goes on, but we should go somewhere if it sticks around for much longer.”

            “Alexia, how are you?” Amy asked from behind her.  Alexia gently turned around before being enveloped in a hug; she eagerly hugged Amy back.  The hug was comforting, a moment that was attached to many memories.  Amy’s hugs always made her day a little bit brighter.

            “I’m fine,” Alexia said after a moment.  “Well, I’m on my way to being fine,” she corrected after recovering from one of her feet rolling outwards again.  “Can I try something?” she asked as she pulled out of the hug, but kept a hand on Amy’s arm.  Amy looked over Alexia’s shoulder, hoping to receive permission from Rory that it was safe to experiment within certain limitations.  Rory nodded and Amy nodded to Alexia in return.  “Is the TARDIS landed somewhere?” she asked, her eyes nervously flickering about for the man that was at the foot of her bed.  ‘The Doctor,’ Amy and Rory called him.  It must be the only name he’d given them, since it was past a title and more like a substitute for a name.

            “The Doctor is somewhere, but we are landed,” Rory replied.  Alexia opened up to be able to have both him and Amy in the same plane of sight.  “I think we’re in England, roughly modern-day.”

            “I want to walk outside and then walk back inside,” Alexia explained, staring at her feet.  She paused for a moment, distracted for a second by the fact that she doesn’t have shoes on.  “I want to see if it will help me remember meeting the Doctor, going into the TARDIS for the first time.”  She looked back up, a sad smile creeping onto her face.  “I have to make some sort of effort to remember.”

            Amy and Alexia both kept their gazes trained on Rory, who was deeply pondering the effects of such an action.  After a moment, he started bobbing his head from side to side before nodding.  “I can’t think of anything bad happening; the worst that could happen is that you don’t remember anything.”  Alexia nodded in agreement before turning back to duck inside her room for just a moment.  “Where are you going?” he asked.  “I thought we were going outside.”

            “I’m going to need shoes then, aren’t I?” she replied, a smile still lingering on her lips.  Rory nodded, looking away in a form of avoiding embarrassment.  Alexia wasn’t jilted or anything; she knew that Rory wouldn’t have noticed that she didn’t have shoes on.  To tell the complete truth, she was going to have to remember to wear shoes all the time in the TARDIS as the grating around the console began to dig into the bottoms of her feet the moment she stepped on.  She stuffed her feet into some high-top sneakers before making her way back to the front of the TARDIS.  Both Rory and Amy looked at her with a degree of alarm, so she raised an eyebrow in the form of a question.

            “Tie your trainers, Missy,” Amy demanded, gesturing to Alexia’s shoes with a bow of her head.  “We can’t have you falling again.”  Alexia bowed her head in apology before kneeling and swiftly tying both her shoelaces.  Once she was done with that, she walked to the front door and opened it.  Sure enough, modern-day central London greeted her.  She stepped out and looked back before closing the door, as not to close it on Amy or Rory, but noticed that they were still both up on the console-deck.

            “Come on!” Alexia called, brushing her hair out of her face and keeping the hand there to combat the wind.  “Come on!” she repeated after a beat.

            “We were already inside with the door closed when you came in the TARDIS the first time,” Rory called back.  “We’ll be right here, but for maximum efficiency, you need to do this yourself.”

            “Just don’t walk into the street or anything!” Amy warned, ever the worrying mother.  Alexia smiled in acknowledgement before closing the door and turning away from it.  She took a couple deep breaths, watching the bustling everyday life in London.  She then turned around and slowly inched her hand back to the doorknob; she panicked for a moment that it locked on its own.  She pushed it and it opened, though, so she stepped forward to fully open the door.  She stepped inside and gasped at the sudden retention of a memory.

_“Come in, come in,” the Doctor smiled, dashing up to the console, quite gracefully for a man with such long limbs.  She didn’t move for a moment, simply staring at awe at the inside of the 1960s phone box.  Well, it wasn’t a phone box; that was for sure.  He had called it a TARDIS, or Time And Relative Dimension In Space.  It was a spacecraft, but it wasn’t.  It was more than a spacecraft.  It was a space-time-craft.  A spacecraft implied that it was a vehicle that could travel through space.  The TARDIS, though, could travel through time and space.  She stared at him, in awe of him as well.  “Yes?” he asked, fidgeting nervously under her stare._

_She then realized she was staring and averted her gaze, a large grin plastered on her face.  “This is amazing.”  The outside, as per 1960s police boxes, was a royal blue while the inside was a rainbow of the warmest colors she could imagine.  The most beautiful yellows, golds, bronzes, oranges, red, maroons, and any combination thereof greeted her eyes, highlighting the soft green of the tall tube in the center of the console.  “It’s bigger on the inside,” she stated, not knowing what else to say.  When she glanced back at him, he was sporting a grin that she was certain rivaled hers in size._

_“I love it when they say that,” he said, continuing to smile as he checked a few monitors and pushed a few buttons._

_“‘It’s bigger on the inside’?” she repeated.  He nodded, his smile still in place.  “Who’s this ‘they’ that I am now a part of?”_

_“My companions,” he answered easily.  He looked at her and took in her confused gaze before understanding and clarifying.  “People, friends, travel buddies.  ‘Companions’ is a phrase from my home.”  His eyes turned sad for a moment before he ducked back behind the console._

_“Your home is a far way away from here, then? To have such a different phraseology?”_

_“My home is very, very far away from here and we have our own language.  Our own biology.”_

_She let that sink in for a moment.  He wasn’t some genius human who had found and hidden an alien ship.  He was an alien himself! “Is this your natural form?”_

_It was his turn to ponder what she had just said for a moment, then exclaimed.  “No, no, I’m not about to peel off skin and be something green and slimy.  That’s the Slitheen.”  Off her blank look, he was about to explain before he glanced at his watch.  “That’s a story for a different time.  Amy! Rory! You’ll never guess who I found!”_

            “Alexia?” She snapped to attention, feeling her hand being wretched from the handle and hands on her shoulders, forcing her to sit down.  “Alexia?” It was Rory.  He was in nurse mode and she had probably completely freaked him out just then.

            “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she insisted.  After the initial shock wore off, a brilliant smile bloomed on her face.  “I remembered!” She covered her gaping mouth with her hands, blood rushing to her cheeks in her excitement.  “I remembered the first time that I walked inside the TARDIS!” She began to giggle as Amy and Rory both hugged her.  She started to feel a bit squished, but that didn’t matter; she remembered!

            “Just like that?” Rory asked.  She knew that beneath the medical exterior, the exterior that made his voice sound like he was simply considered with headaches and pains, there was the inner-Rory that was just as excited as Amy and she were.

            “Just like that,” she reassured.  “I walked in and just remembered; it was like watching a movie scene.  I totally just zoned out and saw the memory in my mind’s eye.  It was a bit unnerving at first, but it’s so fantastic!” She squealed in glee, beginning to bounce up and down as much as she could while still enveloped in Rory and Amy’s hug.  “I’m recovering.  I’m going to get better.  Sooner or later, I’ll remember everything.”  Before she realized it, tears were filling her eyes and spilling over.  She clasped her hands over her mouth and nose as she tried to fight back the tears.  Rory released her as Amy embraced her more fully.

            “Don’t cry,” Amy cooed, rubbing Alexia’s back.  “I know they’re happy tears and all, but please don’t cry.  You’ll make us cry.”  Sure enough, Alexia pulled back a bit and saw tears filling Amy’s eyes as well.  She glanced around and saw no Rory; she was suddenly filled with anxiety as she realized that he had probably gone off to share the good news with the Doctor.  Who knows how he’d react; with any luck, he’d react without being too forward, but still react strongly enough to give her a context of their relationship.

            “I can’t believe I lost so much hope so quickly,” she murmured, more thinking aloud than anything.  “Do you think that’s why some amnesia patients never recover?” she said a bit more loudly, her tears beginning to subside.  “Because they just give up hope and don’t make any effort to remember?” It was more of a rhetorical question, so it wasn’t that large of a loss when Rory came back into the center room and left Amy without an opportunity to answer had she even planned on answering.

            “How much did you remember?” Rory asked.  Alexia was momentarily distracted by the slow, almost shy pace that the Doctor was walking at behind him.  She focused back on Rory and thought for a moment.

            “I opened the door, got over the initial shock, found out he was an alien, and then he turned and called for the two of you,” she answered after a beat.  It was a small passage of time in reality, but it was more than enough to spark hope in her heart that she would eventually fully recover.  Enough hope that her plans didn’t include a trip to any hospital any time, anywhere.  Before she could react, the Doctor had her in a gentle, tentative hug.  She didn’t freak out like she would have predicted; instead, she easily hugged him back.  It just felt right to hug him.  They were obviously friends at the least if hugging seemed so natural.  That was a relief; their friendship could probably be salvaged if she continued to remember at the pace she was.

            As soon as they both released each other from their hug, both looked away in embarrassment.  The Doctor couldn’t believe he’d done something so forward.  Yes, they’d hugged before and a hug wasn’t all that forward in human terms, but it was still forward for the two of them.  He’d hugged her and she could barely remember him.  Luckily, she’s remembered that he was an alien and remembered how easily she took to it the first time, so he wouldn’t have to go through that again.  That was most likely his least favorite part of gaining a new companion, going through he was an alien, but he wasn’t going to suck out their brains or anything.  He was the good kind of alien, anyway.  Time Lords were essentially humans plus some.  He’d reverted to a human state before and it wasn’t really that different.  When one of his hearts had stopped when he was still full Time Lord state, though, that bloody hurt.  His body wasn’t accustomed to that, but he didn’t die instantly or go catatonic or anything.  So, he assumed, that was good.

            Alexia pretended to be suddenly fascinated with the numerous nonsensical devices on the TARDIS console.  She couldn’t believe that she had so easily hugged him back.  It was bad enough that she was blushing like crazy and the stains from her tears were still plain on her face despite the small smile still on her lips, but she didn’t have to go and be all friendly with the Doctor.  She still wasn’t sure of what her relationship with him was, so she was worried about giving him the wrong impression.  If she hugged him today and they were dating before she hit her head, who is she to deny if he tries to kiss him tomorrow? She sighed, gently tracing the surface of the TARDIS console.  She looked at the three by her, frowning slightly as she heard a whisper without any words she could make-out.  No one’s lips were moving.  She shook her head to clear it; there was no need to become schizophrenic simply because she hit her head.  The whispering came again, a bit louder this time with definite vowels and consonants, but still no actual words.  Even then, she watched everyone’s lips as the whispering filled her ears and saw that none of the lips were moving.  Then, hers moved into a half-embarrassed, half-confused scowl.  What on earth was going on?

            “What’s wrong?” Rory asked, instantly aware of her disheartened state.  She pressed a single digit against her lips in a request for silence.  Rory, Amy, and the Doctor ceased movement; the Doctor even stopped breathing.  Alexia removed her hand from where it rested on the console and waited for a few moments.  The whispering didn’t return.  When she placed her hand back where it was, though, she heard a whisper that sounded like it was saying “Don’t be afraid.”  Trembling, she retracted her hand and stared, gaping openly, at the console.  “What’s wrong?” Rory repeated.

            “I’m hearing things,” Alexia murmured.  “I’m hearing things whenever I touch the TARDIS.”  Tears started to fill her eyes as she realized that her injury was getting worse right as she thought she was getting better.  “I’m hearing things.  I must be hearing things.”  She calmed down slightly when Rory cupped her face and forced her to look at him.  “I’m hearing whispering when I touch the TARDIS console.”

            “Alright,” Rory declared purposefully as he dropped his hands.  “We’re taking you to a hospital to get your head checked out.”  If Alexia was frightened before, now she was terrified.  She hated hospitals, absolutely abhorred them.  “Doctor? Can you take us to modern-day Santa Monica, California?” Rory requested, naming the neighborhood in Los Angeles where Alexia had grown up.  The Doctor simply nodded, obviously rattled himself, before taking control of the TARDIS and flying her to America.  There wasn’t even a moment for any of them to be excited about going to America; everyone was completely distressed over Alexia’s newest development.

            When the Doctor walked away from the console, Alexia followed, assuming that they had landed.  She hadn’t felt any of the customary jerks or shakes that normally indicated that they had landed.  A moment later, it hit her: He was being extra careful after a rough landing had caused her to hit her head.  She was changing how everyone was living their lives.  Her heart was pained at the realization.

            “Santa Monica,” the Doctor declared, which caused Alexia and Rory to scurry towards the door.  Alexia bravely lead the way, immediately at home at the busy streets and constant noise.  She turned down the block and started walking to the one place she had hoped she’d never wind up: St. John’sHospital.

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**St. John’s** **is an actual hospital; I spent the longest hour of my life there following my mom’s surgery.**

**I know what I’m doing, so don’t be alarmed by the crazy-ass stuff that seems to be going on.  Next chapter will most likely be shorter since it’s just a lot of information that lends itself to future chapters (I have this all outlined).  This is officially a Series 6 fan-fiction! Nothing before, nothing after.  If this goes well, though, there will be a Series 7 sequel.  :)**


	3. Chapter Three

_Alexia fit perfectly into the TARDIS trio, some aspect of her personality flawlessly fitting her to each of them.  So when she loses any memory of the Doctor, all friendships are strained.  Hateful words are said, danger is found, spoilers are given, but more importantly, Alexia remembers who she is piece by piece with limited to no help from the Doctor.  There’s something in between them, or at least there used to be.  If both of them would stop being so stubborn, things might fall into place more easily.  But, it’s like leading a horse to water: you can lead them to the place they need to be, but only they can fix what was broken._

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**I am not Moffat.  I am, though, Evelyn Steele.  I do not own the Doctor, Amy, Rory, the TARDIS, nor episode scenarios that will appear in chapters beginning with Chapter Five.  I do, however, own the actual writing of this story along with the character Alexia Seraphina.  The plot, excluding chapters where they follow actual chapters, is mine as well.**

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            If no one knew any better, they might identify Alexia’s walk as confident, at-home.  True, Alexia was confident with where she was going enough to lead the way, but she was far from comfortable.  She hated hospitals, and she knew that as they drew closer to the hospital, her pace slowed a bit more.  Before long, she wasn’t leading the Doctor, Amy, and Rory as much as she was simply walking in front of them.  As if sensing her hesitation and what that meant, Rory stepped in front of her and lead the way into the hospital.  Once inside, all four of them stopped.  Alexia had barely walked in of her own free will; it was going to take some convincing to get her to move further in.  Rory was overwhelmed with the sheer size of it; he had worked in a large hospital back in Scotland, yes, but the overwhelming open-air space required a moment to become accustomed to.  Amy had a similar reaction to Rory’s, but she was also instantly worried that she would get lost.  The Doctor immediately stopped, one part because everyone else had, but the second part because he’d never paid attention to hospitals and he was a bit intimidated.  Sure, there’d been that one time in his tenth cycle when he met Martha Jones, but that had been just for fun.  This time, there was actually something wrong with one of his favorite people.  It scared him more than if something was wrong with him -- he could always regenerate; Alexia couldn’t.

            “Hi,” a young female nurse greeted the group.  The Doctor reflexively reached for his psychic paper only to have Rory take lead.

            “Hi,” he greeted back, extending his hand.  “My name is Rory Williams.”

            “Nice to meet you,” the young woman smiled.  She was short, a few inches behind Alexia, with jet black hair pinned back in a banana clip.  When she smiled, the brightness of her teeth contrasted with the honey tan of her skin; her sea green eyes also lit up with the professional grin.  “My name is Diana.  How can I help you?”

            “My friend Alexia hit her head pretty hard,” he explained, indicating Alexia by pulling her a step forward by her elbow.  “I’m a nurse, but I’m not strong enough in the head injuries area to assess her properly.  We don’t have an appointment, but could someone see her?”

            “Of course!” she responded quickly, the smile replaced by a very professional expression.  “I’ll contact my supervisor and find a room and doctor for you.”  Rory glanced down and was a bit embarrassed; sure enough, her nametag -- declaring her to be Diana Jacobson -- had the neon green patch that indicated her as an interning medical student.  “You can ask for a general patient sheet at the front desk right there.”  She pointed before shuffling off and disappearing into an “employees only” section.  Rory walked to the front desk she had pointed to and returned to the group, who had kindly moved out of the way of the door, and began filling out the sheet.

            “How much of this am I supposed to flub?” he asked in a hushed whisper.  “We don’t have her social security number, her insurance policy…” He trailed off before ending in a shrug.

            “Fill out what we have,” Amy posited.  “We’ll just say we’re traveling and don’t have permanent things like an insurance policy.  Rory already explained he’s a nurse; he’s all the medical attention we’ve needed.”  Alexia nodded before silently taking the pen and pad from Rory and sitting down to fill the form out.

            She mouthed a curse.  “Should I just put ‘Seraphina’ as my last name?” she asked, looking up at all three of them.

            “Probably best,” Rory agreed.  Now, just for a moment, all three of them kept their eyes trained on the Doctor, whose back was to them, as he looked around, thoroughly overwhelmed.  “Ignore him,” Rory muttered.  Both women turned their attention back to him.  “He’s so used to playing tour guide and knowing everything that he’s just a bit thrown off; he’s never been to America.”  Rory hesitated then hastily added, “This far West.”

            “We have a room for you,” Diana announced.  Behind her, a maternal brunette followed, in a pencil skirt, blouse, and lab coat instead of scrubs.  “This is Doctor Isabella Newton.  She used to be a head-trauma specialist in our ER; she’ll be leading the examination.  Doctor, this is Alexia.  She hit her head and might have some form of amnesia.  This is Rory, friend of the patient.  He’s a nurse and brought her in.”

            Doctor Newton extended her hand to Alexia first.  “We’ll get you figured out and on your way soon, Alexia,” she smiled.  “Don’t worry.  I know hospital jitters when I see them.”  Alexia shook her hand, offering a small nervous smile.  “Thank you for bringing her here, Rory.”  She shook Rory’s hand, changing the focus of her attention.  “Amnesia’s important to catch early on.”

            Rory returned her greeting before turning her attention to Amy.  “This is my wife, Amelia Pond,” he paused to point at the Doctor, “and this is our close friend John Smith.”  Isabella shook both their hands in turn before looking towards Alexia once more.

            “This way,” she instructed before turning and leading the way up the stairs and down a long hallway.  “We’ll get you situated in a room and then do a quick physical so we can decide what tests to run.”  Alexia shivered a bit, but soldiered forward, just a pace or two behind her.  She really hoped no tests were necessary.  If there was anything she was more horrified of than brain scans, it was probably blood tests.  She really did not like needles.  “Right in here.”  Isabella opened a room and allowed the group of four inside.  Alexia dutifully sat on the examination bed, swinging her legs in an effort to appear calm.  Amy sat in one of the chairs and Rory sat down next to her.  The Doctor stood in the middle of the room for a moment before moving to stand next to Rory, facing Alexia.  “I’m going to do a quick, routine physical,” Isabella explained as she put a stethoscope around her neck.  “You must let me know if you feel any pain.”  Alexia nodded in understanding.  Isabella started with the heart, and chuckled when the cold shock of the stethoscope caused it to increase momentarily.  There was nothing wrong with neither her heart nor her lungs.  Her reactions were normal, as were her eyes, nose, ears, and mouth.  The only abnormality Isabella found was the same tenderness and bruising Rory had initially found, which he mentioned to her afterwards.  What came next scared Alexia witless.

            “Because you have a bruise so close to the brain stem, we’re going to have to get a quick CAT scan,” Isabella declared.  She picked up the phone by the door and explained such to whoever was on the other line.  “You all can stay here, if you’d like.  We’ll be back in just a moment.”  Isabella then walked out, holding the door open for Alexia.  The blonde cautiously followed, unsure of how to proceed.  Should she tell Doctor Isabella how terrified she was of getting her brain checked out?

            _Really_ , she thought.  _Of all the injuries you have to get, you get the one that scares you out of your mind.  Nice one._ She fidgeted, getting more and more physical in her nervousness as the time got closer and closer to lie down on the table and get scientific photos taken of her head.  She was bouncing up and down, wringing her hands when Isabella finally asked her to lie down.

            “I’m going to take a CAT scan,” Isabella explained.  “CAT scan stands for computed axial tomography scan.  Essentially, this tube here” she paused to pat the large white tube whose tray Alexia was currently laying down on “is going to take a series of x-rays of your head.  Normal x-rays don’t let us see through your skull, but these scans penetrate your skull so we can see your brain.  You just need to lay still and not move.  The scan itself won’t take very long.  I’ll wheel you into the CAT scanner, you’ll close your eyes, you’ll hear a series of clicking and whirring like a giant camera, and then you can open your eyes and I’ll wheel you back out.  Okay?”

            Alexia nodded.  She wasn’t claustrophobic per say, but she wasn’t the biggest fan of being stuck in a giant tube while her skull was penetrated and her brain examined.  Before she could voice any fears, Isabella gently slid the tray into the tube.  It was smaller than it looked; the walls were apparently very thick to hold all the machinery.  The machinery that Alexia didn’t want to see at all, so she quickly screwed her eyes shut.  She heard a door open and close.  Isabella had left? Her breathing started to increase.

            “I’m going to start the scan now,” Isabella’s voice told her.  She stiffened; who had come in, then, if Isabella was still in the room? She took a few deep breaths and relaxed as she rationalized that Isabella must be in the adjacent room with all the computers.  There was just some sort of intercom system built into the scanner.

            True to what Isabella had told her, Alexia felt like she was hearing a giant camera.  There was little to no time in between each shot, which must have meant that the layers would be very thin.  Her stomach began to churn a little as she thought about what was actually happening with the x-rays and such, so she chose instead to mentally sing a song her mother had taught her.  It was a children’s song; it taught the months in Spanish along with their corresponding number, all in a clever little melody.  She was about to sing about May for the second time when she noticed the dead silence in the physical world around her.  Sure enough, she heard the door in the room open and close, and she was wheeled out of the tube.

            “You did really well for a first-timer,” Isabella sweetly commented.  “You can open your eyes now.”  Alexia did, blinking a few times as her pupils painfully contracted against the bright light.  “You can take as much time as you need.  I’m printing out the scans, but it’s through a special machine that always takes its precious time.”  The blonde smiled, sitting up slowly to assure that no blood just rushed to her head.  Alexia followed Isabella out of the room and back down the long corridor.

            “How was it?” Amy asked as the two women walked back into the room.  Isabella was carrying a long, wide envelope, which they all could only assume held Alexia’s scans.

            “There were no problems,” Isabella answered.  “Alexia was great.”  She smiled, which Alexia returned before sitting back on the examination table.  Isabella then turned to what almost looked like a smart-board on the wall and hung the x-rays on it.  She flipped a switch that turned on the backlight of the board before walking to the wall and turning off the room’s lights.  The scans were then lit up, showing layer upon layer of Alexia’s brain and skull.  It was like her head had gotten a photo shoot.  It was sort of weird to look at, honestly.  Isabella smiled before turning away from the scans and facing the group of four.  “Her brain is very healthy.  If there were any swelling of the brain, we’d see that.”  She pointed to the gray matter in the middle of the scan.  “This is the brain.  There’s an even margin between the brain and the skull, meaning the meninges are doing their jobs.”  There was a brief pause before she explained, “The meninges are a fluid that rests between the brain and the skull.  They prevent the brain from bashing into the skull, but they are sadly easily infected.  Viral meningitis -- the inflammation of the meninges -- is actually deadly.  If the meninges are too inflamed, they can crush the brain.  There’s nothing of the sort going on here, which is good.”  She stared at the scans for a moment longer.  “That just means that she has a bruise and situation-specific psychogenic amnesia.”

            There was a long pause as the small group absorbed the news; finally knowing the name of what was going on with her made it seem so real, so permanent.  Alexia broke the silence.  “I understand situation-specific,” she began, risking a glance towards the Doctor, who seemed transfixed by the x-ray.  “What does ‘psychogenetic’ means?”

            “Psychogenic amnesia,” Doctor Isabella corrected, “is characterized by the presence of retrograde amnesia and the absence of anterograde amnesia.  You can form new memories -- absence of anterograde -- but you can’t remember an aspect of your past -- presence of retrograde.”  She took a deep breath before continuing.  “Sadly, there isn’t an effective way to treat retrograde amnesia, especially situation-specific psychogenic.  The reminder effect doesn’t really work.”

            “Reminding her about,” Rory hesitated and stumbled for a moment, “John.  The reminder effect is simply telling the person about his or her past.”  After a moment, Rory exclaimed.  “Alexia remembered something when she was in a similar situation.  What’s that?”

            “That’s formally a form of psychoanalysis, placing the patient into a situation in which they are likely to recover the memory.  It’s loosely connected to spontaneous recovery, which is the safest and most common form of recovery.”  She turned her attention to Alexia.  “Just be careful.  Don’t force yourself to remember.”  She ruffled Alexia’s hair before heading towards the door.  “If you’ll all follow me back down into the lobby.”  Absolutely giddy with relief, Alexia and Amy wrapped each other into a tight hug before following out the door.  The Doctor glanced about the room once more before following them, his eyes fixed to the back of Alexia’s head.  Because of her hair being parted to lie in front of either shoulder, he could see the bruise on the back of her neck.  He wondered for simply a moment if he would bruise.  Before he could wonder too deeply, though, he had to stop in fear of bumping into Alexia and Amy.  He realized a beat later that they were back in the lobby, standing in front of the front desk.  He watched, curious, as Alexia pulled three cards from her wallet, which she insisted that she always keep in her jeans pocket.

            “It’s her ID, her credit card, and her insurance information,” Amy explained to him in a low voice.  “We’re just paying for her CAT scan and the pain medicine that Doctor Isabella is giving Rory.”  Sure enough, he turned his head slightly and focused on the conversation going on to his right.

            “She shouldn’t have any sharp pains,” Doctor Isabella explained.  “That would indicate something has worsened, and you should take her to the nearest ER.  She will have a dull pain at the bottom of her skull for a few more days, until the bruise has healed.  She shouldn’t go on roller coasters or anything that would make her vulnerable to sharp, jerky movements.  She should try and avoid bending over a desk or a laptop for a few days, too.”  Rory nodded, committing the instructions to memory.  He would have to be on full nurse-mode for a few days, but that wasn’t anything new.  He used to be a full-time nurse, so it would be nice to feel completely useful for a few days; he just wished it was under better circumstances.  “That should be all.”  She handed him a small bottle of white pills.  “She should take these every night before she goes to bed.  She can also take another one if her neck is really bothering her, but she shouldn’t take two nor should she take another one until at least four hours later.”  Rory nodded, gladly noticing that the detailed medicine-related instructions she had just said were also printed onto the label of the pills.

            “I’ll take good care of her,” he smiled, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the two women, both of whom were looking very relieved.  “Thank you so much, Doctor,” he said sincerely, shaking her hand.

            “Oh, it was no problem,” she smiled back, slipping her hands into the pockets of her lab coat.  “It’s my job after all.”  With a small nod, she turned and left, slipping back into the same room the intern had retrieved her from at the beginning of the whirlpool of information.

            “What’s all the relief for?” Rory asked, walking over to the other three in his party.

            “My insurance covers everything,” Alexia sighed happily.  She slipped her cards into their proper places in her wallet, thanked the receptionist, and led the way out of the hospital.  “I was so worried about half way through that I wouldn’t be able to afford it,” she explained, walking quite a few paces ahead of the Doctor.  He didn’t fight to keep up; he could still hear her and he wasn’t about to get lost with her less than five meters in front of him.  “I don’t have a job anymore, so there’s no new money going into the bank account.”  She sighed, running a hand through her hair.  “I just mentally panicked for a moment.  I’ve never been good with thinking about stuff like that ahead of time.”  Her pace stayed brisk, causing the others to walk faster than the leisurely pace they’d walked to the hospital with.  Only Amy understood why Alexia was acting so differently now that they’d left the hospital.  It partially was relief over her insurance covering that day, yes; there was also the worry that they’d landed in a wrong time where Alexia’s insurance didn’t exist yet or had expired.  But it was a quick, crisp pace that kept her at the head of the pack.  Far away from the Doctor, who was bringing up the rear.

            Amy jogged for a moment until she was walking side-by-side with Alexia.  “You don’t have to be afraid of him, you know,” she gently reminded the American.  Alexia smiled sadly before nodding.  “You’re acting like you’re afraid of him.”

            “I’m not afraid,” she insisted.  “I might be upset, but I’m not afraid.”  She glanced back over her shoulder at the Doctor before facing front.  She could feel Amy’s eyes still on her.  “I’m nervous around him, all right? It’s weird knowing that I knew him before and don’t remember anything.  I hate that feeling, and I’ve only just now started feeling it.”  Her sad smile was back as she entered the TARDIS, making a bee-line for her bedroom.

            She was finally diagnosed, but the healing had just begun.


	4. Chapter Four

_Alexia fit perfectly into the TARDIS trio, some aspect of her personality flawlessly fitting her to each of them.  So when she loses any memory of the Doctor, all friendships are strained.  Hateful words are said, danger is found, spoilers are given, but most importantly, Alexia remembers who she is piece by piece with limited to no help from the Doctor.  There’s something in between them, or at least there used to be.  If both of them would stop being so stubborn, things might fall into place more easily.  But, it’s like leading a horse to water: you can lead them to the place they need to be, but only they can fix what was broken._

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**I am not Moffat.  I am, though, Evelyn Steele.  I do not own the Doctor, Amy, Rory, the TARDIS, nor episode scenarios that will appear in chapters beginning with Chapter Five.  I do, however, own the actual writing of this story along with the character Alexia Seraphina.  The plot, excluding chapters where they follow actual episodes, is mine as well.**

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            Amy stood in front of the door.  Her fist was raised to knock, but she couldn’t bring herself to knock.  Alexia was hurting, and she deserved to be alone.  At the same time, though, Amy knew what it was to feel alone and wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone else.  She wouldn’t force herself on Alexia, she decided.  She would let her know that she was there, and let Alexia decide whether or not she wanted to be alone.  She finally knocked on the door, holding her breath as she waited for Alexia to answer.  When she did, she let her breath out all at once.  Alexia’s eyes and cheeks were red, tear tracks obvious as they ran down her face.  She’d been crying her heart out.  She gripped the front of Amy’s jumper and pulled her into her room, closing the door behind her.

            “What’s wrong?” Amy asked, enveloping Alexia in a loose hug.  Alexia simply stood there, occasionally sniffing.  “Sweetie,” she crooned, stroking Alexia’s hair.  The blonde tresses were bumpy, evidence of knots hidden underneath a thin layer of loose hair.  Gently, with light and nimble fingers, she began to comb through Alexia’s hair, all the while murmuring words of comfort.  Alexia reached past Amy’s hands, grabbing onto her sleeves just above the elbow.  “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

            Alexia suddenly chuckled.  It wasn’t a happy chuckle, not humorous in the least.  “Everything,” she choked out, leaning her head against Amy’s collarbone.  “Everything is so messed up.”  She sobbed suddenly.  “And it’s all my fault.”

            Amy silently gasped.  So this was what all this was about.  She was still blaming herself for her amnesia.  Without words at the moment, she did her best to soothe Alexia by continuing to comb her hair with her fingers.  Though her heart thumped a bit unevenly, her breathing was even.  She knew that it would be comforting, as Alexia’s own breathing pattern was horribly erratic due to her cries.  Sure enough, Alexia’s breathing eventually slowed down and evened out until it matched Amy’s.

            “Don’t you dare try and tell me otherwise,” the blonde mumbled, her face still firmly pressed to her friend’s chest.

            “Well,” Amy said softly, “I do dare.  It wasn’t your fault.  This was, and is, completely out of your control.”

            Alexia released the same chuckle again.  It pained Amy to hear it.  “I was the one that fell and hit my head.  I’ve never been that clumsy.  If I didn’t directly do it, then I must have done something that made the universe decide that I deserved it.”  She sniffed, pulling away from Amy to wipe at her nose with her sleeve.  “I’ve been going over and over what I remember, and it’s driving me crazy.  I can’t figure out what I did.”

            “You didn’t do anything,” Amy insisted.  She gently cradled Alexia’s face, tracing thumbs across the blonde’s prominent cheekbones.  “You didn’t do anything directly, and you certainly didn’t do anything to deserve this.  You are the sweetest little thing I’ve ever met.  You’ve been nothing but a little ball of energy and fun and love since we picked you up.  Unless being too positive or too caring is a crime, you’re not guilty of anything.”  Alexia offered the redhead a watery smile, which Amy eagerly returned.  “There.  That’s the smile I’ve been missing.”  She ran her fingers through Alexia’s hair once more.  “Do you feel better?”

            Alexia shrugged, her smile slipping away.  “I guess, a little.  I still feel bad, though.  I can’t help but be a little disappointed in myself, you know?” She maneuvered away from Amy’s loose hug to sit on the edge of her bed.  “I’ve gone over what I’ve been told happened a million times in my head.  Because I can’t remember it, I don’t know if I wasn’t paying attention or tried to catch myself or thought someone else would catch me or what.  I can’t rid myself of the blame because I can’t remember.”  The last three words were barely audible as she began to cry again.  Amy then understood where the real problem lay; not in losing the memories, but in the memories staying lost.  “So, if I can’t rid myself of it, I make myself sick with it.”

            Amy cradled Alexia’s head back to her chest.  “Don’t think that way,” she insisted.  “I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you, but blaming yourself isn’t going to help.  It’s no one’s fault.  This is simply an accident that had some consequences.  It’s like people who get hit by drunk drivers; they did nothing wrong.  It was an accident, and that’s that.”

            She wasn’t sure if Alexia finally accepted what she was saying or if Alexia just wasn’t going to fight any more, but Alexia fell quiet.  Her stiff shoulders fell, the tension leaking from her body so thick it was nearly tangible.  She was giving up the fight.  Her tears flowed steadily, but silently.  She sniffed, wiggling out of Amy’s grip.  Amy was about to be hurt until Alexia plopped, face-down, onto her bed and nuzzled into her pillow.  Break-downs like this were sure to sap the energy out of you, Amy knew.

            “Just call for me if you need anything, okay?” Amy murmured to Alexia, gently rubbing her back between her shoulder blades.  The blonde nodded, her face still buried in the pillow.  Alexia knew how to be loud if she wanted to; there would be no worries about not being able to hear her.  Amy walked out of Alexia’s bedroom, casting one last glance back at her friend before fully exiting the room and gently closing the door behind her.

            “Is she okay?”

            Amy jerked to face the voice, a hand flying to her chest in shock.  She actually had to lean against the wall for a moment, waiting for her heart rate to return to anywhere close to normal, when she realized it was only the Doctor.  “She’s fine,” she reassured him.  Good grief, her voice was even breathy because of the surprise.  He’d really done a number on her.

            “Don’t lie to me, Amelia Pond.”

            _Full name?_ she scoffed mentally.  _I feel like I’m back in primary school._   She took a deep breath, trying to decide whether or not it was her place to moderate any healing in the friendship between Alexia and the Doctor.  She hesitated for a moment, not wanting to stick herself completely into the tension between the two, but not wanting to lie to the Doctor again.  “She’s getting better.”  _There.  Not a lie, but not terribly precise, either._

            The Doctor hesitated, fighting an internal battle.  “Can I see her?”

            Amy glanced back at the closed bedroom door, crossing her arms in front of her chest.  She took a deep breath before turning back to the Doctor.  “You really shouldn’t right now.”  The look of hurt on his face was almost enough to make her cry.  “She’s almost asleep, if she isn’t all ready,” she rushed to explain.  She wasn’t intentionally separating the two of them, but Alexia really did need a little power nap after all she’d been through that day.

            “She’s blaming herself, isn’t she?” he asked after a moment of silence.  Amy stiffened.  That was something she wanted to keep between herself and Alexia.  It was torturing them both enough; the men didn’t need to know that as well.  The Doctor took Amy’s silence as an affirmative answer.  He sighed, keeping his gaze directed downward.  “She really shouldn’t be.”

            Amy scoffed, aloud this time.  “Don’t you start with me, you RaggedyMan.”  He was paying full attention at the use of the normally affectionate nickname.  “I just finished tell her this: It was an accident.  Don’t go blaming yourself.”

            “I know.”  He froze as soon as he had said those two words.  He had responded automatically, not thinking through his comment before it was all ready too late.  Judging from the perturbed expression on her face, she’d figured out exactly what he meant.

            Her fists migrated from either side of her chest to her hips as she stared at him, daring him to meet her gaze.  “I’m surprised at you,” she grumbled.  “I can’t believe you were eavesdropping.”

            “I wasn’t eavesdropping!” he defended.  “I was going to come in, but decided against it.”

            “Then decided to just stay out there and continue to listen to our conversation?” The Doctor scuffed his shoes, playing the part of the innocent man.  “That’s eavesdropping, Doctor.  You didn’t have our permission to listen to the conversation, but you did anyway.”  He shrugged his shoulders, which made her sigh.  She knew he was listening to them with good intentions; she personally didn’t even mind that much.  But she knew that Alexia would mind deeply.  Ever since she hit her head, she’d been horribly hesitant around the Doctor.  It was completely understandable, but it would take some adjusting in the interim.  They used to be so comfortable around each other that it was odd not having them be anywhere close to that now.

            “For what it’s worth, I apologize,” the Doctor murmured.

            Amy sighed again, crossing her arms once more.  “I’m not the one you should really apologize to.  If anyone deserves an apology, it’s Alexia.  But I highly advocate against your actually apologizing to her because that means you have to admit to eavesdropping to her in the first place, which really isn’t the best move for you right now.”

            Alexia backed away from her bedroom door, taking the deepest breath she could without feeling like she could be heard.  He’d heard her.  He’d heard her absolutely break down into nasty human tears with her convoluted emotions over something she couldn’t remember.  It wasn’t Rory.  Rory, she might have been able to handle.  As awkward and fumbling as he was with emotions, Rory would have understood.  The Doctor, though?

            She sat down on the edge of her bed, staring at her clasped hands in her lap.  She’d never feared not knowing something before.  She’d been comfortable all through school about not knowing everything; it was what fueled her to keep learning.  She’d acknowledged the limits of her math and science abilities in high school, but she didn’t fear not knowing calculus or advanced biology.  This amnesia with the Doctor, though, frightened her.  It shook her to her very core.  These were more than just missing memories.  This was a whole part of her.  She was missing the Doctor’s Alexia.  She still had alone Alexia, Amy’s Alexia, and Rory’s Alexia, but the Doctor’s Alexia was trapped somewhere in her subconscious -- she presumed; she still wasn’t sure where her memories actually went.  She didn’t mind that she didn’t know that.  All she needed was those memories back.

            The whispering was another thing that scared her.  There was no explanation for it.  She was going crazy.  Or was she? After listening, her ear pressed to the door, she decided it was safe to venture out.  She forwent shoes, worrying about making too much noise.  She crept through the TARDIS, her pulse jumping at every noise and creak she made.

            As she stood barefoot in front of the TARDIS console, she prayed for her sanity.  It wasn’t something she normally did; she was secure in her sanity, for the most part.  But the fact that this quote-unquote whispering had started since she hit her head, she had the right to worry.  Right? Amy and Rory and even the Doctor seemed all too real to be made up.  But this whispering.  That must have been the stress getting to her.  She’d been emotionally on the brink anyway, so it hadn’t taken much to push her over.  Her overactive imagination had scared her plenty of times before; who’s to say it wasn’t just acting up again?

            She held her hand out in front of her.  Her fingers trembled as she slowly lowered them to touch the console.  She heard a quiet breeze, like a draft blowing through.  Jerking to face the doors, her hand fell away from the console.  The doors were closed.  The air was still.  All was quiet.  Still watching the doors, she reached behind her and fumbled, trying to touch the console.  As soon as she finally touched it, the breeze started again.  The doors were still closed.  The temperature didn’t fluctuate.  There was no natural explanation.  She was hearing things.

            “I’m hearing things,” she affirmed aloud.

            Just then, the supposedly imaginary wind picked up.  The gust faded in and out, but she could pick out sounds.  Then syllables.  Then words.  “No, you’re not.  I’m real.”

            She jerked her hand away from the console so fast, she vaguely registered the fact that her elbow cracked.  She was panting heavily, and her mind was dulled; she felt as though she had been sapped of her energy.  She stared at the console.  She felt her breathing even out as she watched the slow, gentle thrumming of the console’s tower.  It was like a mother’s heartbeat, soothing with its pitch and rhythm as it wormed into her subconscious.  She wanted to store the sound in a warm bottle, then curl around it like a kitten.  Some part of her craved to be blanketed with that sound, to wrap it around her and have it with her always.  That heartbeat of the TARDIS…

            She looked back down at the console itself, breaking the trance with such a jerk it made her head spin.  She raked a shaky hand through her hair, taking a deep breath.  This was going to be a long journey.


End file.
